For the first time in four years my ICD "delivered therapy," which I discovered days after "the event" when my electrophysiologist's nurse called to ask "if I was okay."
Author: darlene anita scott
New Poem Over at The Curator Magazine!
the lankiest one, voice on the verge of collecting crushes, is making himself up as he goes, a danger my dad’s admonitions cannot prepare him for; will justify the conflation of boy to body. Real Enough is real enough.
New Poem in Green Mountains Review!
there are ways of being alive that look nothing like the somatic supposition opposite death. To be dead is something else altogether.
New Poems in Madcap Review!
The cracks in my heart have not come from bodies offered in the guise of honey; haven’t shaken my hand seconds too long; taken my eyes for gazing balls; my limbs for casualwear. What pocks its surface could be mistaken for the debris their kind leave behind
New Poems In Awakenings Review!
What you do know is that what the women said about you is true: you are a cavernous hollow in whom no man can find his rightful end. And who doesn’t want to end somehow? To plant a flag, surrender and wilt into rest?
“What a friend we have in Jesus” (& Nikki): A musing response to Nikki Giovanni’s “A Good Cry”
For today’s sermon, we borrow from the book of Nikki (Giovanni, that is).
Editor’s Note: While our usual editorial style uses poets’ last names on second reference, this essay intentionally breaks with that style as a nod to the intimacy the poet has cultivated with audiences and readers.
By Kendra N. Bryant, PhD
I turned myself into myself and was
jesus
men intone my loving name
All praises All praises
I am the one who would save
—Nikki Giovanni, “Ego Tripping (There May Be a Reason Why)”
Jesus wept. (John 11:35)
I find Jesus and Nikki to be quite similar, maybe even one and the same. Admittedly, however, I don’t know either that well. But I think I know enuf about them to make such an assertion. See, I’m thinking if Jesus really is on Mars,[1] then Nikki’s fascination with space is really her fascination with herself, but not in an ego-tripping, self-centered fashion; more like a return to Self. Otherwise…
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Today I remembered that you are dead
It wasn't remembering at all but realizing--probably that's what I was doing, you know, that you are dead, and it felt like chewing foil
Poetry For Black Lives: A Reading and Conversation
Revisiting the Elegy in the Black Lives Matter Era Virtual Tour
Please consider your institution--university, library, non-profit invited to engage with us in readings, talks, and panels. Also, ORDER THE BOOK! revisitingtheelegy.org @blmelegy.org
New Poetry In About Place Journal
Source: darlene anita scott
